


Carving Canyons

by Transom



Category: The Clash
Genre: M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Weed Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25718395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transom/pseuds/Transom
Summary: Sequel/companion to “Lazy Substance.” Joe’s side of the story.
Relationships: Mick Jones/Paul Simonon/Joe Strummer, Paul Simonon/Joe Strummer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Carving Canyons

**Author's Note:**

> Attention: You will need to read "Lazy Substance" first before this one. It really doesn't make much sense without it.

Joe had meant it when he had told Mick there was nothing going on with him and Paul. He really had. 

Yes, they had been kissing each other. And yes, perhaps it had been unwise to do it so shamelessly in front of everyone, but Joe had never even considered that he _should_ feel ashamed about it. Paul’s touch, his warm fingers slipping through his hair, had told him as much, told him that he was safe, that he could let go. And he had always believed it, ever since that night in the jailhouse, had always known exactly what Paul meant with every touch. 

The bubble had been burst when Mick questioned them, like being shaken awake out of a lovely dream. He was made painfully aware that he should never have allowed himself to feel as safe and secure in Paul’s arms as he had. He felt like an idiot for not realizing that what they were doing was never meant to be left in peace. 

Because, he thought, maybe it _wasn’t_ normal. Maybe friends who were blokes weren’t meant to go about kissing each other, at least not like how he and Paul had gone about it. Joe blushed at the thought. It had always felt so good to be so close to Paul, to be pulled into his arms and kissed sweetly. It had never been more than that, but then it had never needed to be, and that was what had made it so perfect. Simplicity had always worked for them, simplicity that could only exist between two people who understood each other so deeply that they didn’t have to mess about and complicate things. 

Was he right in thinking that way, though? Was Mick right to be upset, or disturbed, or confused, or however exactly it was that he felt about it? Maybe he and Paul _had_ taken it too far. Mick hadn’t seemed to mind the kissing, had even participated in it some himself, but maybe the sleeping together thing plus the kissing had pushed it into some realm of impropriety of which Joe was unaware. 

Joe had to laugh bitterly to himself at that. He kicked a loose bit of pavement into the street in irritation, suddenly angry, annoyed that something that had brought him so much peace had been taken away from him. So what if he and Paul were so close? He loved Paul, like a brother, saw him as a lifetime companion. He loved being with him, eating with him, making music and art with him. He loved kissing him, too. He loved sleeping beside him sometimes. Sometimes he needed it, or Paul needed it. If they hadn’t happened to both be blokes, would anyone have even noticed? What was so wrong about getting what he needed from another man, a brother-in-arms, someone who he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with in some way or another anyway? 

Joe stopped dead in the middle of crossing the street, indignant. He ignored the honks and shouts from the motorists as he about-faced and broke into a lope, taking himself back to the hotel straight away. Urgency flooded his veins as he tried not to sprint flat-out, keeping himself to a sensible jog so he could dodge passersby and not look _too_ batty. Some of them gave him strange looks anyway, but how could they even know how his skin was crawling with the need to be close to Paul again, the need to apologize and be taken into his embrace and hear his voice rumble in his chest against him? Whether Mick was still there or not, whether or not he approved. 

As it happened, Mick _was_ there. He and Paul were sitting on the bed together when Joe burst back through the door. They weren’t talking, but their silence seemed comfortable, and Joe felt a measure of tension leave him as he entered the calm of the room, and he was able to catch his breath faster than he expected. 

He shared a look with Paul after he shrugged off his jacket, overwarm from his run and the anticipation of the enveloping acceptance that he knew was waiting for him in Paul’s arms. He shivered a little, but he couldn’t go to Paul as eagerly as he liked, remembering Mick was there too, and that he was supposed to be annoyed with him. 

He was too tired to talk to or even look at Mick, though, simply grunting his thanks when he budged up to let Joe sit between him and Paul. Joe was pulled to Paul’s side like a moon, helpless to resist resting his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes and reaching up to cling to him. 

“’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

Paul shushed him, reaching an arm around to squeeze his shoulders. “It’s alright. We’ve sorted everything, I promise.” 

“Yeah?” Joe looked up from Paul’s shoulder to Mick, who was watching him carefully. 

Mick nodded, scooting a little closer to lay a hand on Joe’s arm. “I was an idiot. I overreacted. I… didn’t understand. But Paul explained it to me, and I think I’ve got it now. I feel rotten for making you think it was wrong.” 

The quiet words curled comfortingly around Joe, touching and sincere. Joe instinctively wrapped an arm around Paul’s, even as he reached out for Mick. Their hands intertwined, and Joe shivered at the intimacy of it, of their fingers lacing tightly. Mick smiled at him, and it meant everything, meant that Joe had him too, if not in exactly the same way that he had Paul. It meant that now, the three of them could carry on, like drops of water carving out a canyon, pushing forward all together and stronger for it. 

*** 

They had all gone to bed together after the gig as Mick had promised, so late that it was early in the morning. When Joe finally blinked awake, he groaned at the bright light that was filtering in through the curtains, from a nearly afternoon sun. He struggled to remember which city was outside the window being bathed in all that sunlight, finally deciding it was unimportant after he couldn’t narrow it down much further than Europe. 

It was warm, but Joe was chilled, and he pulled the covers to his bare chest. Curious, he looked to his left and his right. His bedmates were gone, he saw, with a stab of loneliness. He thought about trying to ignore the ache in his stomach and sink back into his warm spot in the bed, until he saw that the door was open to the balcony, a cool, mild breeze bringing in the smell of smoke and breakfast. Mick and Paul were sitting in deck chairs, watching the city that was finally re-coalescing in Joe’s mind as Paris. He listened as they chatted, quiet and easy, before dissolving into wheezy giggles. 

Joe smiled to himself, eager to drag himself out of bed and join them. He slid out from the sheets and padded to the balcony, arms wrapped around his stomach to ward off a chill that no longer existed. “Morning,” he muttered, lifting a hand to shield his tired eyes from the hazy sun. 

His other hand was quickly filled with a spliff from Mick, who stood up to cradle the back of his head in his hand and kiss his cheek warmly. “Morning. There ain’t any more chairs, but you’re welcome to join us.” 

Joe grunted wry acknowledgement. He took a pull, holding it in and sharing an amused look with Paul, before letting it out with a grin and a huff. “I suppose I’ll have to lie at your feet like a dog, then, huh?” 

“Saved a spot for you.” Paul grinned back, parting his knees and gesturing for Joe to sit. Joe handed the spliff back to Mick before eagerly settling down between Paul’s legs, sighing as the smoke began to settle under his skin and Paul’s hands found their rightful place in his hair. He tipped his head back, trying to look at Paul upside-down, and in return, Paul slid his hands down to his chin as he folded his own body forward far enough to be able to kiss his forehead, pressing his lips lovingly into his skin. 

Joe took Mick’s spliff from him again after Paul let him go, blushing as their fingers brushed. He was happy, though, so happy to see the indulgent half-smile on Mick’s face as he looked from Joe to Paris to Paul, thoughtful and content. 

“Just us, today?”


End file.
